Mister McIntyre’s Secret
April 19th, 1964
There is a large lavish hotel room. Rich crimson and gold wallpaper, a huge bed, gilded chairs and lavish mirrors. Mister McIntyre is standing in front of the largest mirror straightening his tie. He is in his black suit, the one he wears to big meetings. His shirt is harsh white and he is wearing his cornflower blue tie. He is freshly shaven, his hair is parted neatly and slick. You can count the comb lines.
Marcy Peterson, his mistress, is walking out of the washroom. A slinky low cut black dress. Her black hair long and silk soft falling over her shoulders. Her lips are dark red and glimmering.
He towers over her. He stands almost six foot five and she, like me, is just over five feet tall. He leans in and they kiss, at first tenderly and then his hand is in her hair, pulling her back so he can kiss her neck hungrily. Her eyes are glazed with pleasure.
He picks her up and carries her to the bed. Standing over her he takes off his jacket and folds it neatly on the night stand. He then methodically rolls up his sleeves exposing his muscular hairy arms. He loosens and removes his tie, she sits up on the bed eagerly wanting more of his lips but he pushes her down.
Picking up the phone he presses one button and I answer.
“Abigail I’m going to need some rope.”
“Yes, sir. Right away.”
There I was at the door, dressed in my mousy brown skirt and my beige top with my hair in a ponytail and my glasses falling off my nose. Two thick coils of rope in my hands.
I looked down at Miss Peterson. She’s a wicked girl and a wanton slut. I know why Mister McIntyre wants me to tie her down. I can only imagine she will squirm away when his hands are too rough. I pet her hands dip down and play with her sex when she wants more, knowing that Mister McIntyre is only giving her as much pleasure as she is supposed to get.
I glared down at her, but she is lost in his eyes. I pull her so that she is sitting up and I unzip her dress. The fabric is soft and expensive. The smell of her hair and her perfume is delicate, but heady. As I pull the dress off it exposes every inch of her. Her black underthings, her dark stockings and pretty garter belt. I unsnap the belts and put them aside. I gingerly pull her underwear down, her hand going to my shoulder for support as I pull them off. Then I pull the pillows from under the covers and put her head on them.
I tied her, I tied her tight for him. She’d better not get loose. I tied both of her wrists behind her back. Then tie a knot around her knee and slid the rope under the bed and tie the other end to her other knee, keeping her down and keeping her legs apart. The last knot made her wince and she shot a look at me. I smiled sweetly.
“Sorry Miss Peterson.”
The near hypnotic way she looked at Mister McIntyre melted away for a moment as she glowered at me, but then his smack across her face brought her back. It was light, but still her cheek grew read for a sting of Mister McIntyre’s hand.
Mister MacIntyre stood over the bed watching the tied up woman in the bed, her bottom in the air and her sex exposed so completely. He was clenching his fists and his jaw. He was planning what to do first, how to take her apart.
I was on my knees after the girl was tied. I opened the buckle of his belt and carefully stood up while I pulled it off of him. It slipped around him loop by loop until it hung in my hand, heavy black leather. I held it out to Mister McIntyre and his eyes never even settling on me he took it, folding it in half and snapping it once.
“I’ll let you know if I need anything else Abigail.”
And dutifully as always I went back to my desk, hoping Mister McIntyre knew I would do anything for him.
I placed her diary on Mister McIntyre’s desk next to his newspapers.
When I sat at down at my desk I sat up straight. My heart wasn’t racing, though it was pounding hard in my chest. I felt alive and ready to see what was next. I’d gotten a glimpse into Mister McIntyre’s life and it was freighting and sexual and everything that my dreams seemed to hint at.
I was ready for my next assignment.